17. Roman Architecture #2
Indignation rose in my stomach, so thick and hot that I almost stood up in contempt before remembering our current clothing situation. Instead, I threw back my shoulders and stuck out my chin, careful to keep everything below my collar bones beneath the cloudy water.
“I don’t lack imagination,” I asserted.
“While I’m not entirely sure what exactly you are, Blue, I’m certain you are not unimaginative.
” Ciarán's laugh did little to quell my anger. “You’re quick on your feet, and clever too. All good things to have in a Magician. Not to mention, as a Saergrim, you’re sure to have more innate ability and potential than anyone else in Skalterra.
More than anything, though, you’re stubborn.
All the best Magicians are. Creation Magick is nothing more than exerting your will over Skal, forcing it to take whatever shape you wish.
But your lack of confidence is just as stubborn as you are.
You couldn’t make more than a flail because you told yourself you couldn’t, and you believed it. ”
“And you believed it too, apparently,” I reminded him, but his words were strangely encouraging. I’d been called difficult many times. This was the first time someone had pointed it out as an attribute rather than a flaw.
“I believed you. I’m in your head. I know all the lies you tell yourself.”
“Lies? What lies?” Water sloshed as I straightened up.
“Lies like you can only make flails.”
“Yeah, but what other lies?”
“Leave it alone, Blue.” He winced again and put a hand against his injured side.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.”
“Do you want me to help?” I blurted.
Ciarán opened one eye to frown at me through the steam. “Right now?”
“I mean, I did throw a spear at your head. It’s the least I could do.”
Ciarán closed his eyes again and a nervous grimace played across his face. “I wouldn’t turn down a bit of healing magick, but if you’re uncomfortable—”
“It’s fine. You’re my Grimguard, and I don’t want you dying for me.”
“So you’d do the same for Sabrina?”
“She’s not a Grimguard anymore, remember? But sure. When a rotsbane rips her open, I’ll take a bath with her next.”
Ciarán’s smirk was short-lived, sliding from his face almost as soon as it played across his lips. I slid down the stone bench to get closer, careful not to disturb the surface of the water too much.
I reminded myself that co-ed communal baths were very normal and not at all weird here in Skalterra, and then instead focused on the shapes the steam was forming in the air so that Ciarán wouldn’t accidentally overhear my thoughts.
I extended my hand beneath the water, keeping him at arm’s length with my eyes resolutely forward.
While the heat of the water soothed, the heat that surged in my hand turned my nerves electric.
My fingers found the increasingly familiar ridges of Ciarán’s ribs and muscles, and I opened the channel between us that let his pain become mine so I could better find all the remaining cracks in his bones and tears in his flesh.
I suppressed a gasp at the fresh agony and pressed my hand into him. He shivered under the touch and then relaxed, letting his head tilt back once again.
I listened to him breathing through his nose, and caught myself mentally tracing the line of his brow down the bridge of his nose to the shape of his lips and the cut of his chin. From this angle, with his eyes closed, he really did look so much like Liam.
“Answer my question. I demand it,” I finally said. “What lies do you hear me tell myself in my head?”
“That we’re friends, for one.”
“We are. Liam—”
“Liam isn’t me.”
“He could be.”
Ciarán’s brow knit. “He can’t. He’s not real. And we aren’t friends because you can’t stand me.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s true. You don’t have to apologize. You’ve seen my Nightmare form. You already know I can’t stand me either.”
My stomach dipped. I had indeed noticed the stark contrast between Ciarán and Liam and how each difference highlighted something Ciarán wished he could change about himself.
“Jokes on you, Grimguard. I couldn’t stand Liam either, so maybe you are more like your ideal self than you think.”
He laughed again. “That doesn’t say much. You can’t stand anyone.”
“Fine. Then tell me exactly how you’re different from Liam.”
“He was blond.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Ciarán opened an eye to smirk at me. “Fine. He was decent.”
“You have your moments too.”
“No, you don’t get it, Blue.” He closed his eye and resettled against the stone. “Liam died for you. But me? I would do so much worse.”
“You say Liam died for me, but that was you. You died for me.”
“No, my Lady, he was only part of me—the best part—and I killed him for you.” He placed his hand over mine where it pressed against his side under the water.
“He’s not really dead,” I whispered. “You can still remember—”
“Just the last two days.”
“No.” I shook my head, and my heart hitched. “It’s there. You dreamed about it just last night.”
Ciarán sat up and opened his eyes as his fingers tightened over mine. “What do you mean?”
“You were talking in your sleep, but in my head. You mentioned Gams and bagels—”
“Bagels?”
“Yeah, they’re a breakfast food.”
“I—” Ciarán paused, his brow furrowing once again. “Yes, I know that. I think.”
“Sure. So you mentioned Gams and bagels, which means Liam is still in there somewhere and then—” Now it was my turn to pause. Did he remember his dream? Would he be angry that I’d intruded?
“And then what, Blue?”
“And then you dreamed about being Liam. It was a memory, I think.”
Ciarán exhaled heavily through his nose, stirring the steam between us. “And you got all that from sleep talking?”
“No.” I gulped.
“You were in the dream with me?”
“I think I was you. Do you remember it?”
He shook his head. “How did you get inside my dream?”
“I was healing you,” I mumbled. “And when you started sleep talking as Liam, I thought maybe I could heal your memories as well as your injuries. And then I got tangled up inside your head.”
His nostrils flared, but then his brow softened, and he relaxed again.
“No more trying to heal my memories.” He let go of my hand, but I kept my fingers pressed against his ribs. “Let Liam stay dead.”
“I saw Ciarán too.”
His pulse quickened beneath my palm, and I blushed. Somehow, having seen his memories as Ciarán felt more intrusive than visiting Liam’s.
“What?”
“In your memory, you fell asleep as Liam and woke up as Ciarán.” When Ciarán said nothing, I rushed to fill the silence.
“That’s how I figured out the eye trick after Orla’s goggles broke, I think.
Because I was in your body in your memory, and you made this.
” I gestured vaguely at my eyes and looked away. “So now I know how to do it.”